Iduna by Maya Michaels Page A

see if Unger was nearby, then whispered quietly, “She caught the disease.”
    “What disease?”
    Freya’s gaze moved over Iduna’s face and searched her eyes—for what, Iduna didn’t know. “We call it the Vanvidd. It has been afflicting our young fighters for the last year. We can’t find a cure.”
    Freya had used the word “we.” Iduna realized she had just given away that she was an outsider. Someone from the camp, of the Ull, would have known about Vanvidd. Freya knew Iduna wasn’t from here but had decided she didn’t care.
    “How many have died?” Iduna asked.
    “Too many. They fall one by one. It’s become less frequent, but we can’t seem to stop it or find a cure. Our daughter Edda was a warm, vibrant young woman. About six months ago she started having angry outbursts and saying wild things. She was dead within days.” Freya’s eyes were like black pits of pain and loss.
    Iduna couldn’t fathom what Freya was feeling. It was the oddest sensation. She could see Freya’s pain expressed in every physical gesture, but it felt foreign. Iduna wondered if her focus on calm was keeping her from connecting to what Freya was feeling. Iduna felt confused and at a loss.
    “You have my sincere condolences,” Iduna said lamely.
    Freya put her hand in Iduna’s, and they stood in silence.
    …
    “You will be cooking for our Leder Vilir tomorrow,” Skuld said. “Be sure you serve him well.”
    “Thank you.” Iduna stepped back in line with Freya. Inside she shook with excitement that she might finally learn something useful for Lawan. Freya and Iduna took the dishes outside and stacked them up for the next day's cleaning.
    “You had better watch your back,” Freya whispered to Iduna as they worked. “Others will be jealous.”
    “Has our darling cook done something endearing again?” Unger asked.
    “She's doing her job, which is more than can be said for you,” Freya said.
    Iduna nodded absently as she thought about cooking for Vilir. She would be getting close enough to learn more, but what else would that proximity bring? An image of the pretty teen lying dead in her tent came to mind. Maybe Iduna could learn more about the disease as well as Vilir’s intentions.

Chapter 15        
     
    The next morning Iduna left breakfast preparations to Unger and Freya, riding off to find something to impress Vilir. To be honest, maybe she needed a break from camp. People were tense and irritable. Perhaps, like her, they also wanted to know where they were going next.
    Freya had told her some of Vilir's preferences, and, if Iduna got far enough away from the exhausted surroundings near camp, she might find something suitable. She rode south and up a valley to find a lake with larger fish than the thinned-out variety remaining in the camp’s nearby streams. The ride was quiet and refreshing; the brisk air worked its own magic. When she reached an open meadow, she kicked her horse into a gallop and smiled broadly with growing exhilaration. She crouched in the stirrups and leaned low, yelling encouragement to the horse. The wind whipped by her, and the wildflowers passed in a multihued blur.
    As she neared a stand of trees, she slowed to a trot. She patted her horse on the side and transitioned to a walk, turning to follow the stream upward to its source. In a few hours she reached a broad lake sheltered by steep mountains. The water was deep with shades of blue echoing the sky.
    She set her horse free to munch on the fresh spring grass and took her saddlebags with her to the shore. She pulled out a ball of string and hook that she'd brought from Lawan. Digging into the leather pouch, she raised a single long worm into the air. It wiggled and squirmed. “Time to go to work,” she said aloud. Skewering him on the hook, she tossed him out gently into the shallows. A quick snap announced her first catch, a small fish. She caught ten small fish that way. A fish took the worm's place on the hook, and